the velvet night
by rodomontading
Summary: a black cat/spider-man period piece set in an alternate, steampunk-y universe. currently rated teen, rating subject to change as the story progresses.
1. Chapter 1

_Just a little bit more…_

She let the rope slide through her hands as she eased herself down. In the room below, the Thief Taker General was having an audience with his favorite paramour. But the safe was on the opposite wall from the bed, and he was not paying attention to the shadows of the room. She kept her cowl pulled over her head to hide the white of her hair. When she got close enough to the ground, she let go.

She dropped soundlessly, sliding her lock picking set out of her pocket. She cast a glance over her shoulder—the Thief Taker was still plenty busy—and turned back to the safe. It was stronger than most, but she wasn't the Black Cat, the infamous Master Thief, for nothing. The door swung open, and her gloved hand snaked inside and pulled out the jewels stashed in there. She put them all into a pouch at her waist and closed the safe again. Back on the rafter, she removed her grappling hook from where she had secured it in the wood, looped the rope around her shoulder, and crept out of the bedroom.

She made her way out onto the roof by way of an open window in an empty room. She was taking several steps back to prepare for the jump she would make to the next roof when a voice sounded behind her.

"You should give those back."

She turned around, letting the cowl fall from her head. "Spider! Fancy seeing you here. You keep showing up and I'm going to start to think you _like_ me."

The man behind her sat crouched on the roof like a gargoyle. His leathers were of deep crimson and blue, the mask he wore fashioned to resemble a spider. One-man police force, that was the Spider. He tended to pop up whenever the Black Cat struck, even when the contracts she took on as Master Thief led her to different towns. Sometimes she wondered if he was following her, but then other times she wouldn't see him for months.

She would never say that she actually _missed_ him, so she just stole something else and remained pleasantly surprised when he turned up. It was cute, how often he tried to stop her, but it made her job just hard enough to make him annoying.

Even behind the mask, she could tell he was rolling his eyes. "Those don't belong to you, Cat."

She frowned. "Well, they didn't belong to _him_, either."

"Two wrongs don't make a right, Cat, didn't anyone ever teach you that?"

"No," she replied. "And forgive me if I don't stick around for another Sunday school lesson. Nice seeing you."

She turned and jumped, launching herself across the gap and on to the next roof. Behind her, she could hear him pursuing, and she took an abrupt turn, dropping down onto a balcony and then swinging herself over to the raised walkway. She kept to the shadows—the black she wore would protect her—but she knew she hadn't lost him. He knew her too well, knew how she would run.

"Time to switch it up," she murmured, and leapt up to grab onto the eave of a house.

He kept on his course, which took him past where she had actually run, and she heard him swear as he had to backtrack, but she was already moving, leaping over from one roof to the next. She spotted an open window ahead of her and swung through it, only to find herself in the middle of what looked like a game of dice. The soldiers at the table all looked up at her in surprise.

She used their hesitation to her advantage. "Evening, boys," she said, winking, then ran across the room and leapt out the opposite window. By the time they got outside to pursue her, she'd be long gone.

Her hideout was in an old clock tower near the outskirts of town, and she took the long way, making sure she hadn't been followed. It was nearly dawn by the time she reached her living quarters, and she gratefully took off her mask and her leathers to take a hot bath. The jewels she secured in a lockbox inside one of her many chests. The jewels weren't for her; she would find her client and return them the following night. She was tempted to keep them, but she would never earn a living if all she did was sit on the precious items she stole for her clients. Besides, there were plenty of opportunities for her to steal things all for herself, too.

But with the Spider back in town, she had a feeling things were going to get much more interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

Felicia tried to check her messages at least every other day. Her mailbox, so to speak, was a loose stone in the old church. She had friends, people who heard whispers of those in need of her services, who would leave scraps of paper for her with a potential client's name and address, if necessary. Then Felicia would pay them a visit.

She took a shortcut through several houses, stopping to swipe things she could sell later—a few bottles of ink, some gold or silver candlesticks, and (if she was very lucky) a pouch or two filled with coins. She crouched on the roof of the house across from the church. Some soldiers patrolled the ground below, and she would have to wait for them to be out of her way. Anywhere else and she would have knocked them out and been done with it, but she couldn't risk them thinking there was something special about this place. She didn't have anywhere else that worked as conveniently for her messages, and she _certainly_ wasn't about to accept house calls.

She hooked her grapple onto the edge of the roof and eased herself down the rope. She ducked behind some boxes in the street, waited until some soldiers had passed, then slunk across the street and into the dark churchyard. She hopped the gate, not wasting time opening it; it would be rusty and would make far too much noise. She kept her eyes peeled while she worked the stone loose, but there was no one around. She reached into the small hole and pulled out a handful of messages, then stuffed the stone back into place and hurried back across the street.

Back on the roof of the house, she crouched like a gargoyle and read her messages.

Some were rumors—the soldiers were looking for her; some baron was supposed to come into town with some of his extensive jewel collection; one of her friends had had a baby, she'd have to pay her a visit later—while others were jobs. They were just names or titles, scribbled hastily onto the paper—the jeweler by the north entrance, the apothecary, the blacksmith. These she pocketed; she would decide which one to visit first later. The last message, however, was something unexpected.

_Meet me tomorrow night at 11 in a room at the Bottlebrush Tavern. Don't use the front door. You'll know the window._

The signature was a crude rendering of a spider web.

She sat back on her heels and arched an eyebrow at the message. It was either genuine or a trap—or both. The message was dated for the day before. She swiveled to check the time on the nearest clock tower. It was 10:40. The Bottlebrush was near enough that she'd make it with time to spare—which meant she could take a few shortcuts and help herself to a few houses' worth of knickknacks, too.

"Well," she murmured, "he wasn't kidding about the window."

The window in question had had a spider web painted onto it. It was closed, but there was a sill, so she maneuvered her way onto the roof and then eased herself down to crouch on the sill. She knocked just as the town clock struck eleven.

The window slid up and she slipped inside.

"Eleven right on the nose. I have to say I'm surprised, Cat."

She smiled, sitting down in the wooden chair that occupied one corner of the small room. "I'm never late for business or pleasure, Spider."

"And which one is this?"

She grinned. "That remains to be seen."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Cat, but I don't like to mix business with pleasure. Ulcers, you know."

"Sure, sure." She stretched luxuriously. "Just pleasure, then. I appreciate directness in a man."

He shut the window and moved closer to her, but remained standing. He was wearing his mask and his leathers, and she wondered if he had rented the room that way or if he had come undisguised. Unless, of course, he hadn't rented the room at all and had entered in the same way she had. When he looked at her, his eyes were flat.

"Cat."

"Oh, all _right_. You're no fun today, what's eating you?"

He sighed and looked away, as if whatever he had to say were too embarrassing to admit while looking at her. "I…" He mumbled something.

She frowned, leaning forward. "What was that?"

He made a noise that sounded a bit like a growl. "I need your help."

Felicia blinked, surprised, then allowed a lazy smile to spread across her face. "Oh, this _is_ good." She cupped a hand to her ear and leaned closer. "Say it again, just once more. I want to make sure I heard it right."

"I need your help," he deadpanned.

"Just once more, go on."

"Cat."

"Can I get that in writing?"

"_Cat_."

"All _right_, Spider, keep your pants on—or don't, actually." She laughed. "You have to let me bask in the glory of the moment. What is it you need? Actually, wait—give me another few seconds to take this all in." She closed her eyes and held up her hand, as if holding him off.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you."

"Shh! I'm basking."

"Well, since you're so busy _basking_, I guess I don't need your help after all and I'll just—"

She huffed. "You really _are_ no fun. But fine, go ahead. What is it you need?" She grinned mischievously. "Oh, I _do_ like getting to say that to you."

He ignored her. "I don't know if you've heard, but there's a baron coming to town soon. A rich one."

She examined her gloved fingernails. "I may have heard something."

"I thought you might have. Anyway, from what I understand, everywhere he goes, things go missing. Valuable things, and not just the shiny kind—although I know those are your favorite."

"Aw, you do care."

She heard him smile. "But that's not all that goes missing. Children go missing, too—mostly girls, sometimes boys."

Felicia glanced up, suddenly serious. "Hold on, Spider. If you're going with this where I think you're going…"

"I need you to help me find out where he's keeping those kids and what he's doing with them."

"Look, I steal things, not people."

"Cat, don't you even _care_ that he's kidnapping people's children?"

"Well, if he's taking these kids from everywhere he goes, where are they? Wouldn't someone _notice_ if he had a small army of children following him everywhere?"

The Spider sighed, sinking down onto the creaky mattress. "I know, and that's what I need to find out. He's up to _something_. I just don't know what."

"I don't see what you need me for."

He looked up at her. "Because he'll come to you. He'll need you to help him—to steal whatever it is that he wants or needs stolen."

"And you want me to—what? Refuse? If he's as nefarious and as powerful as you're telling me, wouldn't that be a bad idea?"

"I want you to do what he asks," the Spider replied.

Felicia frowned. She saw what he was getting at, and she didn't like it. "I'm a thief, Spider, not a spy."

He threw his hands up and got to his feet. "Do you think I _wanted_ to ask you for help?"

She pouted. "You mean you didn't? Not even a little bit?"

He sighed, turning away. "Look, if I could do this myself, I would. I'm asking you to help those kids. You never struck me as heartless, Cat."

She didn't like being called heartless. She didn't think trying to protect herself was heartless; she had always been good at looking out for herself. No one else was going to. She wasn't some vigilante like he was. She stole things. She didn't save people. But she wasn't going to sit there and let him call her heartless.

"Fine, Spider. _If_ he contacts me, I'll see what I can do. But I'm not doing this for free."

"I never imagined you would."

"As long as we're clear." She stood to go.

She walked up to him, and he studied her warily through his mask. Even in the darkness of the room, she could see the uncertainty in his eyes. She smiled lazily, leaning forward to plant a lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"Relax, Spider," she breathed. "I'll see you around."

She opened the window and moved to ease herself out of it.

"How will I know if he contacts you? How do I find you?"

She smiled. "Don't worry. _I'll_ find _you_."


	3. Chapter 3

She paused, halfway through removing the stone from its place in the church wall. "I thought I told you that I'd find you," she said.

She turned around to face the Spider, perched on top of a lamppost. He shrugged, dropping to the ground and walking towards her. It was hard for her to tell in the dark, especially with his mask obscuring most of his face, but she thought he might have been smiling. Good. That meant he was back to his normal good humor. He had been so serious the last time she had seen him that she was starting to worry he was getting boring.

"What can I say?" he said. "I'm impatient."

She arched an eyebrow, turning back to the task at hand. "I thought spiders were supposed to be _extremely_ patient."

"They're also supposed to liquidize their food before they eat it, but what can I say?" He spread his palms in an innocent gesture. "I'm a rebel. I thought girls were supposed to like bad boys."

"Only when the girls aren't bad themselves," she replied, grinning.

She pulled the stone out of the wall and peeked into the hole. There was only one piece of paper, and the Spider moved closer as she pulled it out. She glanced sidelong at him, but all he did was flash a toothy grin, so she rolled her eyes and unfolded the note.

_Thursday, parlor of the Proserpine. Use back entrance. Best behavior—it's the baron_.

She snorted indignantly. "Listen to that. 'Best behavior,' as if I'm ever on anything _but_."

"I think it's the butt they're worried about," the Spider commented. He held up his hands in surrender when she glared in his direction. "You're the one wearing skin-tight leather."

"So are you."

"Sure, but yours is obviously better. Why do you think I never catch up when I'm chasing after you? Clearly I'm just mesmerized by your butt. Don't look at me that way; you're the one with the dangerous anatomy."

She'd forgotten how _annoying_ he could be when he was in a good mood. Admittedly, it was one of the longest conversations they'd had where he wasn't trying to chase her down. She waved the piece of paper in front of him.

"Anyway, this is tomorrow, so do you have any of your helpful words of wisdom?"

"Maybe trade the leather in for a good, old-fashioned sack."

* * *

The Proserpine was the town's high-class brothel. The building was huge and crimson, and had the overall appearance of a small-scale castle. Felicia had never been inside, but she had heard that it was full of expensive furnishings and that the men and women who worked there were the best. They provided a variety of services, even just people to talk to, which Felicia always found interesting. She had never felt a pressing need to talk to someone, but she could see the appeal in the person being a complete stranger you'd never have to see again.

She slipped in the back entrance, as instructed, and tried to find her way to the parlor without being seen. She kept her cowl up to hide her hair and stuck to the shadowy areas, blowing out candles and switching off lamps whenever she could. The rumors had been true; the Proserpine _was_ overflowing with expensive things. She would have to keep her fingers to herself, however, if she didn't want to get caught.

She found what she assumed was the parlor and slipped inside, but it was dark. She glanced around, staying just inside the door. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out a hulking figure sitting in a chair and two others—she assumed they were bodyguards—lurking near the door. They moved toward her, and she reacted, kicking one between the legs and taking the knife from his belt as he went down. The other made a grab for her, but she dropped low, swooped around him, and came up behind, holding the knife to his throat.

"You must be the baron," she said to the big man.

He was huge, the largest man she'd ever seen. He'd fill the doorway she had just come through. He wore expensive clothes, and he twirled a cane in one of his hands. He fixed her with an unpleasant smile.

"And you must be the Master Thief. I apologize for my men's…overzealousness, but we had to be sure you were not an imposter. Would you mind lowering your cowl? Ah, yes," he said, when she didn't move, "I can assure you my men will not attack you again."

She stepped away from the man she was holding but kept the knife, reaching up with her free hand to pull back the cowl and let her hair out. "It's me. Satisfied? Now, what do you need from me, baron…?" She realized she had no idea what his official title was.

"I have a list of things I would like you to procure for me. And please," he added, "you may call me the Kingpin."

* * *

"We need to stop meeting like this, Spider—people are going to talk."

"Please, you met with the baron—sorry, the _Kingpin_—in a brothel."

Felicia smirked, sliding the window shut behind her. They were in the same bedroom at the Bottlebrush that the Spider had summoned her to last time. She moved for the bed, stretching luxuriously and spreading out, hands behind her head.

"Sure," she said, looking at where he stood in the middle of the room. "But that was business."

"So did he give you a list of things he wanted you to steal?"

She nodded, reaching into her bodice and extracting the piece of paper. She waved it around, pulling it just out of his reach when he went to snatch for it, until he finally grew huffy and snagged it with a shot of his webbing.

"You are so not fun," she said, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

The Spider came and sat beside her, studying the list. "There's a lot of stuff on here," he said. "And so you, what, stole it all already?"

"Give me some credit, Spider," she said, sniffing. "You make it sound like any amateur could do it."

He chuckled. "Of course, excuse me. So did you, Cat, with all of your infinite talent and one-of-a-kind skill set and irresistible sex appeal, get everything on his list?"

"Aw, Spider," she said, bumping her shoulder against his. "You flatter me. You're gonna make me blush!"

"Did you?"

She nodded. "Everything except that last one. The apothecary didn't have it. I was hoping you'd know where to find it. I don't know what it is—I don't know what _any_ of those chemicals are. But I _do_ know about jewels."

He looked over at her. She couldn't tell behind the mask, but she thought his eyebrows might have been raised. "What do you mean?"

"Those things he asked me to steal? There was something weird there."

There had been much more valuable things in the jewelers'. She had broken into each one, working her way systematically through the town, swiping the items on the list. But while she'd been doing a little _browsing_ for her own collection, she'd noticed that each shop had more priceless items, usually in a case hidden in the back. All of the items _she'd_ stolen had been in the window displays. The more expensive pieces she'd taken for herself; they sat snugly in a chest in her clock tower apartment.

"So you're saying he, what? Went window-shopping and picked stuff at random?"

She nodded. "I think so. It doesn't make much sense, unless those chemicals mean something to you."

He was looking intently at the piece of paper, and she looked from it to his face. She could almost hear his mind working, and it was interesting to see him so quiet for such a long time.

"Can I keep this?" he asked, gesturing with the paper.

She shrugged. "I guess. Do the chemicals mean something to you?"

"Nah, I just like the smell of your perfume and want to carry it with me. Like a love letter, but so much more intellectual. I like you for your brain, Cat."

She rolled her eyes. "Right. I'm being serious—do you know what they're for?"

He nodded. "I might. I need to do some checking. How long do you have?"

"Two days."

"I'll see what I can find out and try to meet you again tomorrow night. But we probably shouldn't keep meeting here. If this Kingpin has eyes everywhere like I think he might, someone might notice something. You're not exactly inconspicuous."

She gave a mock gasp, lifting her hands to cover her chest. "And I thought you were a gentleman."

She knew he was right, though. They needed to meet somewhere else. She bit her bottom lip, weighing her options. They could keep meeting in secret in tavern rooms, but it would be difficult finding empty ones. And they couldn't keep renting them. From what she could see of his hair, it was brown and pretty unmemorable, but eventually someone would think something was weird if the same guy was renting rooms at various town taverns. Tavern keepers talked, as much as they liked to pretend they didn't. And she was out of the question; there weren't many young women with white hair period, let alone in town.

She was loath to give up her hiding place, but unless he was offering up his own living space—Felicia was starting to wonder if he had rented this room for himself, since he seemed to be a little bit of a nomad—she didn't think they had another choice. And there was something she liked about the prospect of having the Spider in her own home, even if it scared her a little, too. At least she would be the one with the turf advantage.

"I have a place," she said, and he looked over at her. "In the north clock tower, right under the clock face. It's my apartment, and we can meet there under three conditions."

"Which are?"

"One—you respect the privacy of my living space. That's my home, Spider, and I wouldn't tell you about it if I didn't have to, so don't go blabbing to anyone, especially a soldier. Two—whatever's in there is mine, whether I stole it, bought it, or made it from scratch. You can't throw me in jail for any of it, and you can't make me give it back."

She looked at him to make sure he was paying attention. He nodded. "All right."

She stood to go, heading for the window and the darkness of the night.

"And the third condition?" he prompted.

She smirked, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "Three—knock first. Sometimes I sleep naked."


	4. Chapter 4

_[note: if you're wondering what spider-man's mask looks like, i'm envisioning it less like the one he wears in modern-verse and more like this.]_

* * *

Felicia wasn't naked, but she had certainly thought about it. One of the things that stopped her, however, was knowing that it would be difficult to read the Spider's expression behind his mask. It was, however, a surprise she had decided to save for maybe a later time. As it were, she settled on her usual leathers that night and fixed her mask firmly in place even as she heard the quiet knocking at the window. She checked her reflection one last time in the glass over the sink, then moved out of her small but functional bathroom and made for the window. She unlocked it and slid it up and stood back to let him inside.

He straightened up as she moved to close and latch the window again, and she heard him let out a low whistle as he took in her collection. The window opened right into her little museum, as she called it, with numerous chests and class cases filled with the things she had collected. Paintings hung, framed, on the walls, and various plaques from various towns were mounted into the beams. He stood peering through one of the glass-topped cases at her collection of jeweled masks.

"Did you steal all of this?"

"Do you kiss and tell, Spider?" she replied, arching an eyebrow.

"Only if it's a really good kiss."

She grinned. "As a matter of fact, I did _buy_ some of these pieces, and some of them _are_ gifts. I don't think I'll be telling you which, though."

"And the plaques?"

"That's my little secret."

He turned and looked around, arms akimbo. "So do you sleep like a dragon, on a pile of your riches, or…?"

She laughed as she realized he was looking for somewhere to sit down. "Naturally. Don't you know there's nothing more comfortable than sleeping naked on a pile of jewels?" She headed for the back of the room and the small flight of steps there, swaying her hips perhaps a bit more than necessary. "My bedroom is downstairs."

"Bedroom? On the first date? Cat, what kind of man do you think I am?"

She grinned at him over her shoulder. "The kind who appreciates a girl who knows what she wants."

She had to admit that she was having fun taunting him, especially because he gave it back so effortlessly. It was a nice change from always running away from him. Even so, she told herself getting involved would be a bad idea. She was a thief, after all, and he was bound—by what code she had yet to determine—to catch people like her. Still, it was nice working alongside him just the same. She was actually enjoying herself.

Her bedroom was nothing special, just a bed that was barely big enough for two people, some wooden chairs, a table, and a small bookshelf. The Spider stopped to examine the books there, making appreciative noises in his throat at some of the titles.

"I don't even _want_ to know how you got that one…" she heard him murmur, and she rolled her eyes.

"Do I need to give you a moment alone?" she asked, eyebrow arching.

"Actually, that would be great. I'll just grab a few of these on my way out, hmm?"

"Funny." She gestured to the room. "Have a seat."

He eyed the bed, then sat in one of the chairs. "I have to say, Cat. I'm impressed. This is a classy place for a clock tower hideout."

"Thank you," she said, and she meant it. She was proud of her little home, even if it didn't look like much. It was hers and hers alone, and the fact that she had opened it to him meant a lot. She just wouldn't tell him that. She settled herself in the other chair, sitting sideways and draping her legs over one of the arms. "Now," she said. "Did you find out anything?"

He nodded, reaching into a pouch she hadn't noticed at his waist and holding up a vial of green liquid. "This is what you couldn't get."

She stood up, moving forward and taking it from him carefully. She narrowed her eyes. "How did you get this?"

"I have sticky fingers," he replied, flexing a gloved hand. "Oh, come on—that was funny," he said as she rolled her eyes. "Let's just say that you're not the only one with friends."

Her eyebrows shot up. The Spider had secret contacts? "I can respect that," she said, placing the vial on her bedside table and making sure it didn't roll off. "So what is it for?"

"I'm not sure, exactly."

"But you have an idea."

"Maybe, but I'm not sure yet." He shook his head and got up, pacing the room. "I won't be sure until I figure out where he's taking them and what he's doing—and whether or not you were right about the jewels being something to throw you and everyone else off."

"I am," she retorted. "So you think he's—what? Doing some sort of experiment?"

"Yes. And no."

Felicia rolled her eyes. "Yes, you're making complete sense now."

"Thank you, I've always prided myself on being clear." He flashed a grin up at her that looked slightly strained, then resumed his pacing. "I just don't think he's the type of man to get his hands dirty. He had _you_ steal these things for him."

"To be fair, I don't know if he could have done it himself. He's lucky he fits through a _door_. He'd never make it through a window."

"That's probably also a factor, but I think he just likes having other people be the ones to take the fall if something goes wrong."

Felicia nodded. "It does make sense. It's what I would do."

"Right, and you're a criminal, so—" She glared at him, and he seemed to realize he'd overstepped, so he backpedaled. "Right, sorry. My point is that I'm glad you agree with me."

"Most people are," she murmured. "So if he's having other people do his dirty work like we think, you're saying he has someone else doing this experiment for him."

"It makes sense. What if they do something wrong and the stuff explodes? Whoever dies is just collateral damage."

"But what does this have to do with the kids?"

The Spider sighed, sinking back down into the chair. He threw up his hands. "I don't know," he admitted. "I need to know more about what he's doing. I need to see."

Felicia could see where this was going, and she frowned. "You can't follow me tomorrow."

"Oh, come on—"

Her temper flared. "No. I'm not taking the chance of you being spotted. They'll either think you're chasing me or that we're working together, and neither of those is going to play out well for me. It's _my_ neck on the line, here, not yours." She pointed her index finger at him. "You're going to stay right here and trust me to do a good job. I'll find out where he's hiding, and then I'll tell you, okay?"

He simply stared at her for a moment or two, then nodded. "Yeah, okay. Sorry, I just don't like this whole thing."

She frowned. Was he worried about her? "Neither do I," she admitted. "But it's the best chance we have."

His tone turned arch. "Sounds to me like you're actually enjoying working with me, Cat. Thinking of exchanging your life of crime?"

She laughed. "In your dreams, Spider."

"What makes you think I dream about you?"

"Who doesn't?"

He chuckled, and Felicia felt herself smile. She couldn't seem to help it around him these days.

"So how much did you take for yourself when you picked up everything he asked you to?"

"How about we agree that I help you and you don't ask me what I take for payment, hmm?"

He thought about it, then nodded. "It's a deal."

She smirked. "Shall we make it official, then?" He stuck out his hand, but she laughed and pushed it away. She settled herself on his lap, sitting sideways and draping her legs over the arm of his chair. "Oh, no, Spider," she breathed. "I seal my deals a bit more…intimately."

She tilted her head to avoid getting poked in the eye by his mask and pressed her lips to his. He didn't respond right away, but then he did, one arm moving around her waist and the other hand trailing up her back to tangle in her hair. His lips parted, and she pressed her advantage, deepening the kiss. But he pulled away far sooner than she would have liked. They studied each other, faces close, and she could feel his breath on her skin. She wanted to kiss him again, and he tilted his head a fraction, as if he had had the same thought, but then he pulled himself farther back.

"I think I should go before the next deal I make is for my soul."

She pouted but slid off his lap. "What makes you think I want your soul, Spider?" she asked, eyeing him deliberately.

He laughed. "I'll see you tomorrow night, Cat." He moved for the stairs and waved her off when she went to follow. "It's all right; I think I can find my own way out."

She heard him walking across the floor upstairs and bit her bottom lip. It still tingled a bit from the kiss; she had been surprised by the hunger she had felt for him, and by the eagerness with which he had kissed her back. She took the steps up two at a time.

"And what about the kiss?" she called ahead of her, but when she got to the room, he was gone, the window closed. She went to lock it and spotted a note tucked into the wood frame around the window. She picked it up and smirked.

_Definitely worth telling about._


	5. Chapter 5

She didn't meet the Kingpin at the brothel again. She hadn't expected to, either. He didn't seem like the type of man who would meet in the same place twice unless he was certain it was secure, and the brothel was definitely not secure. They met in a tavern parlor this time, and Felicia used the back door again. She kept her cowl up to hide her hair. Sometimes she thought about doing something about it—dying it or at least cutting it shorter so it was easy to hide—but Felicia liked her hair, and she was perfectly capable at doing her job even with hair like hers. She had proved that on more than one occasion.

The Kingpin's two bodyguards flanked the door, and they glanced at her sourly as she entered. She dragged a chair from the table over to the door and stuffed it under the knob to keep anyone from coming in. She turned another chair around and sat on it backwards, arms resting over the back, and arched an eyebrow at the big man across the table. The bag she had been carrying she left on the floor beside the chair. His cane leaned against the edge, and she knew he had to have been sitting on several chairs to support his weight.

"Do you have everything I asked for?"

Felicia smirked. "Of course I do."

She picked up the bag from beside her chair and swung it only the table. The Kingpin winced, then opened the bag and pawed through the contents inside. The bag jingled as he sifted. He looked up, eyebrows coming together.

"The chemicals?"

She stood, still straddling the chair, and removed a pouch from her belt. She handed it over, and the Kingpin peeked through, lifting out vials and squinting at them. He pushed the bag of jewels off to the side and Felicia eyed it while he examined the chemicals. He looked up at her, distinctly scowling now.

"Something is missing."

She pulled a vial from her belt, filled with the green liquid the Spider had procured. She handed it across the table before resuming her seat, and the Kingpin took it reverently.

"Where did you find it?" he breathed.

She snorted. "It wasn't easy, let me tell you. If I'd have known I'd be nearly killing myself for a little vial of green liquid, I'd have charged a considerably higher rate."

A bag landed on the table in front of her with a heavy _bang_. Whatever was inside rattled around, jingling like coins. She glanced behind her at one of the guards, trying to decide which of them had thrown it, before turning back to the bag and opening it. Inside were gold coins, and they would certainly total to a sum that was more than she had asked for. Much more. Good enough for her. She tucked the pouch into her belt.

"Do you know what this is, Master Thief?" the Kingpin asked, still holding the vial of green fluid.

She shook her head. "Nope. I have no idea."

The big man looked away from the vial and locked eyes with her for a moment. "Black Cat," he mused, "how do you feel about…power?"

Felicia arched an eyebrow. This was getting interesting. "Not interested. Power isn't shiny."

"Business?"

"Only business I'm interested in is my own."

"Interesting… You're a curious case, Master Thief."

She smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment. Honestly, Baron Kingpin—"

"Just Kingpin—"

"—Whatever. What do I need power for? I've never had much respect for authority. It's why I can steal from them."

The Kingpin paused, pressing the tips of his fingers together and staring blankly. Felicia sat, unsure of whether or not this was a dismissal. She was beginning to grow uncomfortable—he had been sitting like that for a while—when he finally stirred.

"You're not the least bit curious as to what I wanted with these chemicals?"

She shrugged. "Not in the slightest."

The blindfold came off, and she could see again. She was inside, somewhere in a basement, from the look of things. They had blindfolded her when leaving the tavern. The Kingpin, somehow put off by the fact that she didn't care about what he was doing—or impressed, it was hard to tell—that decided to show off a little. But they'd blindfolded her when loading her into the carriage. Not that it mattered, of course, because Felicia knew every inch of town. She'd counted turns, and she could tell from the smell in the air that they were near the docks.

She would find it again.

The basement was damp, and the electric lights—the newest thing—buzzed loudly and flickered on occasion. She didn't think they were supposed to do that. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she trailed behind the Kingpin, who swung his cane like his was conducting an orchestra. Clearly, it was more for show than anything else. The bodyguards flanked her, one on each side, as if she couldn't escape if she wanted to. She pretended, for their benefit, that they were effective, but kept an eye out for potential escape routes just the same.

The corridor abruptly narrowed as they took a sharp left, and one guard moved in front of her while the other moved behind her. She purposely swung her hips a little more. The corridor emptied into what Felicia took to be some kind of viewing chamber. There was a large window set into the wall that looked into another room. It looked like the worst kind of surgical room she had ever seen—beds with bloodied wrist straps, instruments that looked like they were more for torture than healing. As she watched, the Kingpin rapped a door with his cane. She hadn't noticed it until now; it led into the horrific room on the other side of the glass.

A door within the hospital room opened, and a man in a white coat entered, dragging with him a girl who couldn't have been more than eleven. Felicia bit the inside of her cheek and tried not to look as horrified as she felt. This girl had to have been one of the missing children. She was dirty, and a little damp looking, as if she had been kept somewhere where the ceiling leaked and couldn't escape the drip.

The man in the coat strapped the girl into one of the beds. Felicia wondered why she wasn't fighting, but the girl moved sluggishly. Maybe she'd been drugged. Felicia glanced sharply at the Kingpin.

"What is this?"

He looked at her, his face filled with rapture. "We're attempting gene modification. We think we can give normal human being _super_ powers. Alas," he added, turning back to the window set into the wall, "we haven't had much luck so far. We keep trying, you see." The man in the coat stuck a needle into the girl's arm and depressed the plunger. Felicia winced. "But we can never seem to get it right. They exhibit…fatal side effects."

"Fatal?" Felicia arched an eyebrow.

For a moment, the girl on the table did nothing. Then she began to writhe. Felicia watched as her teeth elongated and she began thrashing about more violently. Felicia was sure she'd rip the table right out of the floor. She watched as the girl became something feral. She made cries like nothing Felicia had ever heard a human make, and her eyes had turned a startling shade of yellow. The girl screamed for a while longer. She ripped at the bonds holding her to the table. And then, suddenly, it was over, and the girl stopped. It was as if someone had flipped a switch, and she just dropped and lie there limply. The man in the white coat shuffled over to check her. After a moment, he turned to the window and shook his head.

The Kingpin sighed, as if it were all a tragedy. Felicia fought the desire to vomit. "They've all been like that—increased aggression, becoming something…like that. But now that you've brought us these chemicals, well…" He produced the vial of green liquid from his coat pocket and looked at it fondly. "I believe we may be on to something. Imagine it—a superhuman race. They could instantly heal from battle wounds, fight all diseases. They could never be killed."

He clearly expected her to say something, so she forced a thoughtful expression. "Yes… It's an interesting concept."

The Kingpin nodded, tucking the vial away in his coat. "Isn't it just." He pulled out a pocket watch and glanced at it. "It will be dawn soon. It would perhaps be best if we returned you before then."

"So what's the next movie?" she asked as the bodyguards blindfolded her before stuffing her into the carriage. She whacked her head on the ceiling and swore under her breath.

"We spend some time mixing up a new formula," the Kingpin replied. "Then we set up a proper testing facility and make adjustments according to our findings."

"Of course," she murmured, and was silent for the rest of the ride.

She swung herself onto the landing right outside her window. She gave her rope a tug, unhooking her grappling hook from where she had swung, opened the window, and slipped inside. She closed and latched the window as fast as she could, left the grappling hook sitting on the floor. She made for the steps, jogging down them two at a time. She found the Spider sitting up on the edge of her bed, adjusting his mask, as if he had just put it back on. The book he had been reading when she left sat on the table beside the bed.

"You're back! It's dawn, I was starting to worry something hap—"

"We don't have a lot of time," she said, moving quickly across the room. "We need to plan, and then we need to move."


End file.
